


bad things come in twos

by IceisAwesome



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Kurosaki Ichigo, Body Horror, Gen, Ichigo confuses everyone without even trying, Ichigo is head over heels for Shinji, Kisuke @ Isshin: "my son now", Love At First Fight, M/M, POV Kurosaki Ichigo, POV Multiple, Plural pronouns, Urahara accidentally becomes Ichigo's father figure, Urahara needs to stop being creepy, kind of?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-11 22:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12945180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceisAwesome/pseuds/IceisAwesome
Summary: After his mother's death Ichigo starts hearing the spirit in his head. The boy befriends his monster and the world shifts in response.





	1. Chapter 1

Mom dies and his whole world shatters. Mom is killed by a monster, killed because of him, because he was too stupid, too trusting. Mom dies and he has to hold Karin at the funeral, has to rock Yuzu back and forth when she wakes in the night crying for a relief that won’t come. Dad withdraws, looks at him like he knows what happened, like he  _knows_ mom died because of him.

Ichigo’s only solace is the voice in his head.

The other kids call him crazy when they see him talking to nothing, call him a freak when he spaces out in class, but he can’t help it. The teachers act like he’s about to fall apart, even the bullies treat him like glass. No one will talk to him without asking if he’s alright, no one will laugh with him or treat him normally.

But the voice doesn’t do that. The voice laughs with him, the voice consoles him when dad flinches back when he comes home, the voice tells him stories late at night, tales of an endless desert and pitch black night lulling him to sleep.

Ichigo knows he should be worried, knows he should see a doctor or even tell dad. But he can’t let them take the voice away, can’t lose the only friend he has.

* * *

He’s sitting in the hospital, numbness spreading through him, when the voice first talks. The doctors and the police have left, Ichigo answering all their questions about what happened with ‘I don’t know,’ with claims he can’t remember. (He’s not stupid, he knows no one will believe a monster killed her.)

 _Look at them,_  a voice whispers and Ichigo pauses, stilling his swinging leg at the sudden noise.  _Look at how you fooled them, how they so easily believe trauma blocked the memories. Stupid humans, too caught up with what they think is real to consider the truth._

There’s no one around him, no noise but the ticking of the clock and the beeping of the monitors.

“Where are you?” Ichigo finally whispers, sliding off the table and moving to peek around the door.

The voice laughs, angry and amused like one of the bullies that stole his lunch the day before.

_You won’t find me out there. And if I’m not out there, then-_

“You’re…you’re in my mind?” Ichigo whispers back, climbing back onto the table and starting to swing his legs again.

 _Clever,_  the voice sounds pleased,  _you’re smarter than you look._

“Hey!” Ichigo protests, raising his voice without thinking. 

_Not that clever, though. Not if you haven’t even asked what I am._

“What are you, then?” Ichigo hisses back, drumming his fingers on the table as he waits for the nurse to come back.

The voice doesn’t reply at first, Ichigo stilling at the sudden silence, before it speaks up again.

 _A friend,_  the voice tells him, but he can hear its uncertainty.  _A friend, if you want one._

Ichigo stares down at his hands, thinks of blood underneath his nails and the blank look in mom’s eyes. He knows everything will change, knows everything will be worse without her.

 _Okay,_   Ichigo thinks, willing the voice to hear as he stares up at the cracks in the white ceiling. _We’ll be friends._


	2. Chapter 2

“What do I call you?” He asks one night, tracing patterns over his desk with a chewed up pencil.

 _What?_ The voice asks, and Ichigo rolls his eyes.

“I’m not gonna keep calling you voice,” Ichigo tells it, making sure it can hear the exasperation coloring his tone. “And we’re friends, aren’t we?” He shamelessly cajoles, “and friends should know each other’s names.”

The voice is silent, moments ticking past, and Ichigo has turned his attention back to his neglected homework when it finally speaks again.

 _You can’t know my name,_  it finally replies, sounding almost…guilty?

“Can’t?” 

 _Can’t_ , the voice confirms more firmly.

“What do I call you then?” Ichigo demands, homework forgotten again.

The voice may be formless, but Ichigo swears he can feel it shrug.

 _Up to you,_  it replies, seemingly unconcerned.

“Really? You’re not afraid I’ll pick something embarrassing?”

_Not at all._

Ichigo taps the pencil against his lips, eyes catching on the pile of homework he’s been ignoring in favor of the voice. He thinks of the white walls of the hospital, of the doctor’s lab coats and their never-ending questions, of dad’s face when he finally arrived.

“Shiro,” Ichigo decides. “That’s your name.”

 _Shiro,_ the voice replies, sounding even flatter than normal.  _You're a creative kid._

“You pick it then!” Ichigo snaps back, raising his voice and then paling, glancing nervously at his bedroom’s closed door.

 _Fine,_  the voice concedes.  _You can call me Shiro._

“Can I?” Ichigo asks dryly. “I’m so glad I have your approval.”

 _You're a brat,_  the voice mutters before going silent again. Ichigo twitches at the feeling that comes with it, at the sudden knowledge the voice has retreated to the back of his mind.

That should worry him, he knows. It should worry him that he can feel the voice move, can feel when it gestures. It should worry him, but Ichigo feels comforted instead. It’s nice to have a friend, even it’s rude and sarcastic and refuses to answer simple questions.

He goes back to the homework, flipping through the packet and smiling at the feel of the voice’s lazy contentment as it stretches, at the feel of its smile as he reads the problems aloud. 


	3. Chapter 3

Isshin is a fool. He’s intelligent when he wants to be, a fierce combatant when he’s properly motivated, but still a fool.

Only a fool would insist on hiding his son’s heritage from him, despite knowing he could see what others can’t. Only a fool would fail to notice the difference in Ichigo after Masaki’s death.

The other children at his school have noticed, the teachers have noticed, but the boy’s own father hasn’t. Really, Kisuke thinks as he watches the boy loiter outside the shop, Isshin should know better. The boy saw a hollow devour his mother, at the very least that should be a source of trauma.

Should being the key word, oddly enough. Kisuke had expected to see his grades slip, to find the boy with bruises and scrapes from fights. Ichigo should be grappling with doubt and fear and guilt, with all those inconvenient emotions.

But he hasn’t, and that’s enough to make Kisuke look closer. There’s no strange changes in his schedule, nothing to warrant concern. Ichigo has gone back to the dojo and even managed to wrangle Isshin into paying for sword fighting lessons, but that can be explained away. The boy is young and excitable and  _human._ Kisuke can easily see him becoming enraptured with another way to protect.

Ichigo may not be displaying the classic symptoms of grief, but there is enough oddities to worry Kisuke. He may not be entirely familiar with human psychology, but he knows enough to be aware that talking to thin air is a problem.

The boy doesn’t flinch or startle when Kisuke steps out of the shadows, and he marks it as yet another oddity to be investigated.

“Urahara-san,” Ichigo greets him stiffly, “I wanted to talk.”

“Of course, Kurosaki-san!” Kisuke snaps his fan, hoping to get a laugh or a smile out of the boy at the use of the honorific, but all he gets in response is a raised eyebrow. How annoying.

Ichigo settles onto a chair, hooking his legs under it and leaning his elbows on the table.

There’s silence for a moment, the boy tracing patterns onto the table with a finger as Kisuke waits for him to speak.

“You’re a shinigami,” Ichigo finally speaks up, looking at him with determined eyes.

 _Well._ For the first time in quite a while he’s caught off guard, only barely managing to keep his eyes from widening.

“Was,” Kisuke corrects him.

“But you’re not human, not really.”

“No, I suppose not,” Kisuke agrees, lowering the fan and making sure Ichigo sees his wry smirk.

“You’re like dad,” Ichigo continues, looking as though he’s about to say more before snapping his mouth closed.

“And how do you know this? I can’t imagine Isshin telling you.” He knows he’s right when Ichigo’s eyes flash, hands tightening until his nails bite into the palms of his hands.

Ichigo pauses, chewing at his lower lip in thought, before looking up at Urahara.

“You can’t tell anyone. You can’t tell dad. You can’t tell the shinigami.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” he replies with a wink, smirking when Ichigo scowls. 

“I’m serious!”

“What makes you think I’m not?” Kisuke retorts, leaning back in his chair and staring down Ichigo until he looks away in embarrassment.

Ichigo opens and closes his mouth, seeming to wrestle with himself, before finally speaking.

“Shiro told me, about shinigami and hollows and all that.”

“And who’s Shiro?” He replies, eagerly awaiting what’s likely the explanation for Ichigo’s strange behavior.

“My,” Ichigo hesitates, “my friend.”

Kisuke waits patiently for him to continue, the boy obviously having trouble forcing his next words out.

“He’s my hollow.” His eyes do widen at that, staring at Ichigo with an expression that can only be described as poleaxed.

This explains why Ichigo’s been acting odd, true, but it only raises more questions in return.

“And why,” Kisuke asks as he looks at Ichigo, “would someone with a hollow in their head come to a shinigami?”

“I,” Ichigo stumbles over his words, “I need training, and I don’t want dad to know.”

“Training?”

“My reiatsu keeps attracting hollows, and Shiro helps me when they get to close, but I don’t want to always fight.”

Kisuke had thought it curious, that Karakura had less hollows despite the usual incompetence of the shinigami sent. He resists a laugh at that, at a mostly human boy doing what no one else could.

“Alright, Ichigo,” he agrees with a smile, “I’ll help.”


	4. Chapter 4

Telling Isshin would be the safe thing to do. His son has a hollow in his head and has seemingly befriended the thing. You could even argue Kisuke has a duty to tell the boy’s father.

He’s not going to do that though, not when it would take away such a fascinating specimen.

His former comrades battle their inner hollows constantly and live in fear of losing control. Their greatest fear is the hollow overpowering them and going on to slaughter everyone they love.

But this boy, who’s only a child despite his heritage, has managed to befriend the thing. Of course it’s possible that the hollow is planning on gaining his trust and then betraying him, but that’s unlikely. The hollow is as young as its host, he can’t see it coming up with something that duplicitous.

It’s absolutely fascinating to see Ichigo interact with the hollow. The thing has never taken control, but the boy does occasionally pause to stare into the distance, brow furrowing in response to comments only he can hear. The hollow gives him an advantage during spars as well, Kisuke noticing immediately how Ichigo’s faster than a human should be, how his senses are sharper.

Really, he hasn’t been so entertained in decades.

“Do we have to do this?” A young voice interrupts his thoughts. 

Kisuke turns to smile at the scowling child in front of him, giving in to the urge to ruffle his bright hair, laughing when Ichigo bats his hand away. 

“If you want training,” he cheerfully responds, “we have to do tests.”

Ichigo gives him an adorable scowl but acquiesces and settles down.

“Now, is there anything you want to tell me? Any problems?”

“We’re fine,” Ichigo scowls at him.

Kisuke pauses, looking at the boy, who seems entirely unaware of what he just revealed.

“We?” He questions, watching as Ichigo’s eyes widen.

“Well-I mean-” Ichigo looks away before speaking again. “There’s two of us in here,” he says, tapping a finger against his head hesitantly. “Shiro’s got his own opinions and his own likes and dislikes, he’s not me.”

Urahara sips at his tea, staring at Ichigo in poorly concealed fascination.

“Care to explain?”

The kid gets more uncomfortable, bouncing his leg up and down in unease before speaking again.

“Like, Shiro likes dango and I don’t? We both like fighting but I want to protect and Shiro just likes fighting to fight? And he has different opinions on people, he doesn’t like you because-” Ichigo stops again, face flushing as he looks down.

Oh, this is fascinating.

“Shiro doesn’t like me?” Kisuke asks, setting down his tea. “Care to explain why?”

Ichigo chews at his lip, twisting his hands in his lap before speaking.

“You smell like blood and death. You look at us like we’re lab animals, not people. You’re powerful if the shinigami haven’t come after you, and we’re still not sure just why you agreed to help us. You’re dangerous and we can’t predict what you’ll do or how we should act.”

“I helped because you asked,” is his reply, ignoring Ichigo’s disbelieving snort. “You two are fascinating, but I wouldn’t have done anything if you hadn’t asked.”

Ichigo stares at him, head tilted as he listens to the voice in his head, before responding.

“We don’t believe you.”

“That’s fine,” Kisuke responds with a smile. “You don’t have to.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not really happy with this one ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Ichigo hasn't been the same since his mom died, and it makes her worry.

She doesn't like how he withdraws, how he stops going to the dojo. She doesn't like how she's heard the teachers worry over him, how the usual taunts from bullies have switched to teasing him over spacing out in class.

He seems lost and she wants to help, would do anything to help, but he turns those blank brown eyes on her and the words she's prepared die in her throat.

Tatsuki hopes he's getting better when she finds out he's started taking sword fighting lessons, that he's even bought his own bokken.

She bites back her relief when he asks for a spar one day, bites back the usual teasing in favor of giving him a grateful smile. It makes him shift uncomfortably, but Tatsuki finds it hard to care. If he's asking for a spar knowing he'll get beat up again, he's close to being back to normal.

She doesn't expect the kick that hits her ribs before she can move, she doesn't expect him to twist out of the way of her punch when she finally recovers. She definitely doesn't expect him to block her punch and grab hold of her arm, slamming her into the mat.

"Teach me," Tatsuki demands once sensei has dismissed them, staring Ichigo down as he collects his gear.

"What?"

"Teach me. You've gotten faster and stronger than me, I want to know how."

Ichigo looks at her, eyes almost sad, before shaking his head. "You can't."

"I can't?" she demands in response, reaching forward to grab his arm and then raising her hands in apology when he jerks away.

"I mean," Ichigo pauses and licks his lips, "You can't. It's-it's something only I can do."

Looking at his too-knowing gaze, Tatsuki thinks of the rumors about her friend. The usual ones claim he's crazy, that his mom's death knocked something loose. The quieter whispers call him magic, say he can see the dead and talk to spirits.

She thinks about the look in his eyes, thinks about how he fights like a demon, how he has a new intensity that almost scares her. She thinks of the rumors and doesn't know which one is worse.

* * *

Uryuu never gave much thought to Kurosaki Ichigo. It was a tragedy when his mother died, true, but all die eventually.

He doesn't pay attention to the other boy, focusing instead on schoolwork and training. He doesn't give Ichigo much thought, doesn't really care, at least until he realizes he's being watched.

Ichigo looks at him in class and in the hallways, Ichigo stares at him at lunch but never approaches him. Even then he could brush it off as curiosity or trauma, were it not for the look in the other boy's eyes.

Ichigo looks at him like he's assessing him, like he's gauging just how skilled he is-how useful he could be. It reminds him of lessons with grandfather, how the man picked apart his practices until he knew everything he did wrong.

A look like that isn't borne from something like curiosity or something as banal as trauma.

No, Ichigo wants something from him. The only question is what.

"Hey," Ichigo startles him from his thoughts, sliding into the seat next to him and giving a smile that's obviously fake.

"Kurosaki-kun," Uryuu greets stiffly, eyes focused on his lunch.

The other boy hums, seemingly not bothered by his rudeness, as he unpacks his own lunch.

"You can see hollows, can't you?"

At that question Uryuu nearly drops his chopsticks, turning to look into Ichigo's amused eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't," he drawls, looking even more amused. "Just like you don't know about shinigami. Just like you aren't a Quincy."

"What do you want?" Uryuu finally hisses, lowering his voice as he does his best to stare down the other boy.

He scowls when the other boy hums again, turning his attention back to lunch before speaking.

"I want someone to hunt with."

Ichigo rolls his eyes when Uryuu stares at him in uncomprehending silence.

"And you're supposed to be smart," he mutters, ignoring the other's offended look. "Urahara-san is teaching me, but he can only do so much. I want to get stronger, I know you want to get stronger, and we have plenty of targets to practice with."

"What are you?" Uryuu finally asks, looking at this strange boy with the sharp smile and knowing eyes.

"Since you asked so nicely," Ichigo leans in like he's about to tell a secret, though his eyes are amused. "I'm one of a kind."


	6. Chapter 6

There’s sharp pain blooming along his ribs, he can feel a tooth knocked loose, feels his head rattle when he tries to look up, to move, to do something.

It hurts, it hurts so badly he can barely think, and even though he does his best to stand, he still can’t manage it.

“Well,” a voice interrupts his blurry thoughts and he looks up, squinting through his puffy eyes. “You got the shit kicked out of you.”

“No shit,” Yasutora snaps without thinking, flinching back before the blurry shape in front of him can do anything. But the shape only laughs, leaning closer until he can see the bright orange of its hair.

“Saw them beat you up,” the bright shape continues. 

“And you didn’t help?” He asks, half accusing and half resigned.

“Wanted to see if you’d do anything,” the shape hums in response. “You didn’t, but that still tells me plenty about you.”

“Come on,” the shape moves even closer, reaching out and pulling him to his feet before wrapping an arm around him so he lean against them. “Let’s get you to the clinic.”

“Why are you helping?” He demands. “You didn’t help before, why are you helping now?”

The boy-he can tell it’s a boy now, even through his blurred vision, smirks. 

“Maybe I like you. Maybe I’m bored. Maybe both are true, maybe I’m lying and you’ll never find out why.”

“You’re weird,” Yasutora finally manages, coughing wetly before leaning into his strange savior’s hold.

“I know,” his savior responds, sounding almost fond. “We… _I’m_ Ichigo, by the way.”

A part of him wants to ask why Ichigo started to say something and then stopped, but a larger part of him is focusing on just breathing steadily.

“Sado,” he manages to wheeze out, “Yasutora.”

“No.” 

“No?” He asks, tilting his head to look at the boy supporting his weight.

“No,” Ichigo responds cheerfully. “I’m gonna call you Chad.”

He wants to protest, wants to point out that’s not even a good nickname. But everything hurts and a warning blares at the back of his mind, an instinctive message telling him making this boy mad is a bad idea.

“Fine,” he reluctantly concedes.

* * *

Orihime doesn’t have a crush on Kurosaki Ichigo. Sure, he’s handsome even when he scowls and his smile can light up the room, just having him look at her is enough to make her blush, but it’s not a crush.

It’s admiration, not a crush. She admires the way he moves, elegant and graceful and yet still unmistakably male. She admires how he can effortlessly take down someone twice his size, how he leaps into action without a moment’s pause, how he lives his life without any time for regrets. It’s admiration, nothing more. 

She’s content to watch from afar, nursing her admiration in private, until Tatsuki barges into her life.

“Isn’t this against the rules?” Orihime asks nervously, scurrying behind the other girl as they make their way to the roof.

“We’re fine,” Tatsuki dismisses her concerns with a wave. “Besides, it’s not like anyone will tell Ichigo no.”

To her dismay, Orihime lets out a surprised squeak, glancing at the other girl with wide eyes. “Ichigo-kun will be there?”

“Yeah,” Tatsuki responds, looking at her in confusion until awareness dawns on her face. “You mean-”

“Oh look at that! We’re here!” She blurts out, dodging Tatsuki’s attempt to grab her arm and rushing out onto the roof.

Her heart betrays her, beating so loud she can hardly think, when Ichigo leans up from his sprawl against the railing and catches sight of her.

“Why’s she here?” He asks, frown in his voice, and Orihime blinks away a sudden urge to cry.

“Ichigo!” Tatsuki scolds, looking at him reprovingly. “I invited her. I thought she could use the company.”

“So we’re taking in strays now?” Ichigo questions, rising to his feet and walking over to the pair.

A snort interrupts them, and Orihime is suddenly aware of Ishida Uryuu watching them. “You say that like Chad wasn’t a stray.”

“My name isn’t-” the boy leaning against the railing starts to protest, stopping once he sees that the other three are ignoring him.

Ichigo snickers at that, the small chuckle sending a tingle down her spine, before he steps in front of her.

“Do you want her?” He asks, looking at Tasuki and sighing when the other girl nods.

He steps back, looking over her with oddly blank eyes, before speaking again.

“You’re weak.”

“Ichigo!” Tatsuki protests before Orihime can manage a response, though she quiets when he raises a brow.

“You’re going to get stronger, alright? I won’t let any of my friends be weak.”

Friends. She never expected Ichigo to give her a second glance, never expected him to even greet her in the halls. But now he’s calling her a friend.

“I understand,” she squeaks out, blushing when Ichigo quirks his lips into a smirk.

Tatsuki is looking at her almost pityingly, Ishida and Chad both seem unimpressed, but she’s finding it hard to care. It's hard to care when Ichigo is smiling like that. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE!

Despite his heritage, Ichigo has never managed to use the powers of the shinigami, never managed to successfully cast even a low level Kido.

Urahara-san had many theories as to why, had run so many experiments-some he  _knows_ were just excuses to take blood samples-but he’d never been able to conclusively find the problem.

Kisuke’s best guess was that Shiro was somehow interfering, but Ichigo merely shrugged when his teacher told him, merely found another way to grow stronger.

He’s half hollow after all, and hollows need to eat. Hollows need to eat, and so Uryuu joined him, so Chad and Tatsuki and even Orihime had learned to hunt with him.

* * *

Shinigami were supposed to be impressive. Urahara-san may dismiss them, but Shiro tells another story and Ichigo knows which of the two he trusts more.

Shinigami were supposed to be impressive, were supposed to be powerful and brave and cunning, to be everything needed to kill Shiro’s kin. 

Looking at the disoriented girl staring around his bedroom, Ichigo can’t help feeling cheated.

He’d expected-well. He’d expected someone more capable, that’s all. Someone that wouldn’t manage to get themselves injured fighting a hollow, especially not the kind they’d eaten hundreds of times.

But she has, and Ichigo finds himself following her when she leaps out the window, his curiosity and Shiro’s own eagerness urging him forwards.

The night proves to be full of surprises, though, when the girl dodges just a second too late, when the body on the ground begs him to take her powers, to use what she offers.

He doesn’t agree out of some noble purpose. No, he doesn’t agree because he needs to defeat the thing, doesn’t agree to see her safe.

No, they agree because the girl offers  _power._

They’ve never been able to resist power, especially when it was freely given.

* * *

_This is weird,_  Shiro mutters, obviously discontented, and Ichigo is inclined to agree.

He’s used to feeling the weight of reiatsu, grown used to the feeling of fullness that comes after another meal.

But they’ve never felt like this.

They’ve never felt like a dam about to break. He’s never felt like his skin was too tight and body too small.

Sheer force of will is the only thing keeping him from tearing at his skin, from ripping his nails from his fingers, from taking himself apart on the off chance they’d finally stop feeling like his body is about to burst.

Biting back a groan, he rolls his head to the side, pressing a hand to his eyes and pushing, trying vainly to alleviate the pressure.

Just another night. Just another night and the girl will be healed. Just another night and they’ll finally be themselves again.


End file.
